


first dance

by butterscotchlatte



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned neige, as always I imagine they're in their early 20s here but up to u!!, back on my bullshit I'm sorry it's literally just more sad insecure vil x endearments and smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29193558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterscotchlatte/pseuds/butterscotchlatte
Summary: Vil hated himself for allowing even the furthest reaches of his imagination to doubt Rook's devotion to him
Relationships: Rook Hunt/Vil Schoenheit
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	first dance

**Author's Note:**

> Just some MORE quick mindless h/c I wrote on my phone while working (from home!!) today lol, please note that bc of his name I have a lil headcanon that vil speaks and is german and that rook likes to drop his usual french pet names in favour of german ones if vil is upset about something. I promise this will be the last vil is jealous of neige and gets snuggles in bed fic I write!! SORRY and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Vil found himself in a great ballroom.  
  
Starlight filtered in through vast windows, the ceiling stretched impossibly high and every sprawling surface shimmered magnificently in white and pale gold. The space was abuzz with activity as dancers twirled gracefully around him in pairs or mingled and chatted happily, but as always he was immediately able to spot his partner in the crowd. A handful of steps away Rook was standing alone, waiting dutifully and looking - Vil thought proudly - nothing short of resplendent in an elegant suit.  
  
Vil was compelled to close the distance between them. His movements felt curiously effortless and fast as he glided toward the other man with a smile, light chiffon swirling like beautiful smoke around his feet.  
"Are you ready to dance, my love?"  
He expected to be met with Rook's usual charming grin, but instead found only hesitation in his emerald eyes, lips upturned into a smile that felt anxious, unnatural. It did not quite reach his eyes.  
"With me..?" he questioned, and Vil laughed.  
  
"Stop joking, aren't you always begging me to dance with you? Let's get on with it before I change my mind," He held out a manicured hand expectantly, but it went untouched.  
Rook simply met his gaze for a moment, confusion and something like pity poisoning his expression. For the first time in Vil's recollection, he seemed to be struggling to search for a response.  
"I already have a dance partner, _Roi du Poison_. Did you forget? One's lover should always take the first dance of an evening, I'm sure you understand!"  
  
He felt foolish for it, but Vil's heart was racing now as panic and uncertainty truly set in - his words didn't make any sense, yet there wasn't a trace of humour or mischief in his tone. What on earth was this man saying?  
"I..." he stuttered out, hoping to request some kind of a clarification, but Rook cut him off to provide just that.  
"Neige is only getting us some drinks, he'll be here any moment," He smiled softly then, that well worn expression of adoring contentment he often directed at Vil finally appearing for the first time all evening.

"He'll always be my first choice, you know that."

***

When Vil awoke with a jolt, he didn't just feel the warmth of a stray tear or two on his cheeks; he was crying. Truly crying like he never had from just a dream before, but he found himself unable to stop. It was shameful, and embarrassing, but he couldn't overcome the empty ache the nightmare had left him with, that had his hands trembling and his chest heaving with loud, unsightly sobs.  
  
Ever the light sleeper (such were the habits of an always-vigilant hunter), Rook was sitting bolt upright by his side in an instant. Rook, his Rook, _the real Rook_ , Vil told himself. In his sleep addled state it was difficult for his fraught mind to separate the man next to him from the cold, uncaring one conjured up by his subconscious, until he felt familiar hands come to rest lightly on his shoulders.  
  
"What's the matter, _liebling_?"   
Despite being barely 10 seconds out of sleep, Rook was perfectly alert, eyes clear and full of concern. Vil allowed himself to be soothed just a touch by the sound of his own native German on his partner's tongue, words he reserved for only the most delicate and intimate moments between them.  
  
"Just a ridiculous dream I had," Vil managed in response, voice faltering laughably despite his best attempts at maintaining composure. Really, every second he failed to pull himself together in front of another person was torture. He felt a mess. 

Rook didn't mind at all.   
"Dreams are never ridiculous," he encouraged gently, as his hands began kneading calmingly into Vil's tense shoulders. Now that they were both sitting, he had shifted their positions until he was leaning against the ornate headboard, allowing Vil to rest his back comfortably against his chest. Such an arrangement was deliberate; he knew that while Vil might appreciate his affection in that moment, he would surely not want to be looked at, however much Rook wanted to see him.  
  
"They offer a glimpse into our truest desires and fears. Would you share with me what's upset you so terribly, _mein lieber_? Perhaps I can help..."  
Vil hesitated. Rook's pacifying presence and steady, pleasant massage had mercifully helped to tame his hideous sobs into what he hoped were somewhat more dignified sniffs. His head was clearing, little by little, but he still wasn't certain he should explain the reason for his outburst. He didn't enjoy keeping secrets from Rook, but would he think him childish and jealous if he knew the whole truth?

Vil hated himself for allowing even the furthest reaches of his imagination to doubt Rook's devotion to him, but lingering insecurities around nothing more than some silly celebrity fixation of his boyfriend's clearly continued to plague him. They were pointless displays of weakness - he decided - and better left unannounced. The last thing he needed was to appear even more pathetic still, as he sat gasping out the last of his tears in the darkness of his room. His body still shook and felt cold, the slightest warmth seeping into his skin only at the points where Rook touched him.

"I'd prefer not to share," he murmured after a silence that lasted far too long to be natural, grateful at least that his love couldn't see the shame written across his tear streaked face.  
Rook was quiet. He knew Vil better than anything, better than Vil may even have been aware of, and was more than conscious of the recent worry that he himself had caused.  
He had some idea of what the troubling dream may have been about, but he wouldn't press. Instead, he carefully gathered the soft lilac hair cascading down the back of Vil's neck and replaced it with a long, gentle kiss. He wished he could communicate all his love, his _guilt_ , his remorse into that gesture, but knew he may never feel he had adequately repented for bringing pain to Vil's heart. All he could do, now and for the rest of their lives, was remain faithfully by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, comments and kudos are super appreciated!  
> [My twitter](https://twitter.com/maple_Iatte/)


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